A Perfect Machine

by Brett Savory

  Milo took one more look at the place the woman had appeared and disappeared – half expecting her to reappear again – then followed Henry and Faye to the door.

  When they got there, Faye motioned Henry to shh, then put her ear to the door, listened for movement.

  Nothing. Silence.

  “Alright,” she whispered, “when I’m gone, move something heavy behind the door. When I’m back, I’ll knock twice, quickly, then add a third knock at the end so you’ll know it’s me. With any luck, I’ll have Steve with me, and we can get out of here, get you safe, OK?”

  Henry nodded. Faye looked at him, realizing that the light here was better than back in the alcove. And in so doing, she put reality to the images she’d drawn in her mind upon touching his face. It wasn’t as terrifying as she thought it would be.

  Although he was decidedly alien, his features that of a comicbook villain – all sharp angles and sinister lines – she was not frightened. This was Henry. Her Henry – from the hospital, from the bar, from a time before he’d become what he was now. The more she looked at him, the more comfortable she felt in his presence.

  She smiled at him, touched his arm briefly, turned the doorknob, slipped out the door, and was gone.

  * * *

  Henry heard her footsteps echoing down the hall. With every step, he grew increasingly nervous.

  What if she just leaves me here? Now that she’s seen me, touched me, even in dim light, she knows what I am. What sane person would return?

  Henry glanced around for something to block the door. He should do it quickly, in case someone was even now on their way for cleaning supplies.

  Something heavy, something heavy…

  Then it occurred to him – the quickest, easiest solution.

  Henry turned his back and sat down against the door, roughly a quarter ton of steel blocking the way. As the seconds stretched into minutes, Henry’s eyelids grew heavy. He fell into a deep sleep very quickly.

  He dreamed he was running in a field. He felt lighter than he ever had in his life. This was pre-transformation Henry. In fact, Henry felt even lighter than that; he imagined he had no metal at all in his body. In waking life, he couldn’t recall this point in his existence. He must’ve been lead-free at some time, but those days were lost to him. He knew only the feeling of heavy metals in his system, churning within him, eager to coalesce into what he would one day become. But this dream made him feel… what? Human? He had no idea what that felt like. Couldn’t possibly have any idea. But this dream was wonderful. His body felt so light as he ran. As though only blood, muscle, flesh, and bone were packed inside his skin. Such a freeing feeling – one so alien to him that he didn’t properly know how to process the emotions the experience stirred.

  As he ran across the field, the wind whipped through his hair, around his ears, seemed to whistle right through him. He felt insubstantial, like he could run straight through solid objects.

  Then: far away, perhaps coming from over the mountains that loomed on all sides, he heard thumping. The landscape rippled with each one. He continued running, but with each step, he felt heavier. Flesh and bone becoming metal again. More thumping, as if some gigantic god stomped around on the other side of the mountains, just out of sight. Heavier, slower now. And as in most running dreams, his legs felt weighed down in cement, the horizon stretching farther and farther away. The pounding sound became thinner as Henry’s feet slowed to a stop. He stood panting in the field, feeling as though this angry god would appear any second over the tip of one of the mountains, and lock him in its gaze. Rooting him to the spot forever.

  When he finally swam up to reality again, he recognized the pounding of the god’s fists as merely Faye’s three-knock signal. He shook his head and scrambled – as much as five hundred pounds of steel can be said to scramble – to his feet. Turned, opened the door.

  Faye walked in carrying a big dark blanket, followed by a short, worried-looking man. Balding. Glasses. Wearing a paramedic’s uniform.

  “What were you doing? Why didn’t you answer?” Faye demanded as soon as the door was closed behind them.

  “Nodded off. Sorry,” Henry muttered.

  She just stared at him. Was about to continue asking questions, realized time was of the essence. “OK, well, Steve’s got the ambulance pulled up to the docking area, ready to go. I’ll pop out, make sure the coast is clear – I’ve always wanted to say that,” she said, and grinned. “Then I’ll come back in, hustle you out under this big-ass blanket, and away we go. Got it?”

  Henry, still half asleep, just repeated, “Got it.”

  “Great, let’s do it.” Faye then turned to Steve. “Alright, Steve, you walk out casually, get into the ambulance, then just wait for us to get in the back. Once we’re underway–” And that’s when she caught sight of Steve’s slack-jawed expression. The blood seemed to have drained entirely from his face.

  She’d told him she needed to transport something “strange” to her apartment, but didn’t go into further detail. She knew if she tried to describe Henry to him, he wouldn’t have believed her anyway, and would’ve just delayed them further by asking a million questions. But in her desire to get this done before the hospital got too busy, she’d forgotten to deal with Steve’s reaction immediately upon entering the room.

  She turned now to face him, put her hands on his shoulders, said, “Steve. Steve, look at me. Stop looking at Henry. Come on, Steve.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Come on, look at me. Focus.”

  Steve’s jaw snapped shut with a click, his eyes slowly sliding off Henry’s face like it was greased. He managed to focus on Faye’s eyes. “What’s… that?” he said, and backed away, out of Faye’s reach, his heels smacking against the door behind him. “What is it? What is it?”

  Henry dropped his gaze, looked at the floor.

  Milo, too, dropped his eyes, sad to see this playing out in front of him. Embarrassed on his friend’s behalf.

  “I’ll explain later, Steve,” Faye said. “Just believe me that he’s not harmful. He won’t do anything to you, me, or anyone else. Something has –” she searched for the right word “– happened to him, Steve. It’s not his fault, and I care for him, so I need you to be the friend I know you are, and just drive us to my apartment. OK?”

  Steve still looked mildly horrified, but color was slowly returning to his face. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure, whatever.” Steve tried to tell himself the guy must just be in a suit of some kind, and maybe standing on stilts. It looked too real, though. But his mind didn’t want to deal with that option, so instead ran on the automation of shock and rationalization.

  He groped in the semi-dark for the door handle, grasped it, turned it. Out he went, into the hallway. The ambulance’s driver-side door opened, slammed, then the engine roared to life.

  A shudder ripped through Milo just then. Something unpleasant was coming. He didn’t know how he knew, but felt it deep inside. A truth unbreakable, indisputable. He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him like wet gauze.

  Faye turned to Henry. “Are you ready?”

  Henry nodded once.

  Faye flung the blanket over him as best she could. Henry helped by draping it up and over his head. When it settled, it covered about three quarters of him, which would have to do. It would be screamingly obvious to anyone if they saw thick metal legs and a blanket running around that something was suspicious, but at least they wouldn’t see all of him, which would be much worse.

  Faye cracked the door, peeked out. Nothing moved. She heard voices somewhere, though, echoing off the hallway walls, and the grounds would only get busier, so it was now or never.

  She glanced back again to Henry, whispered, “Let’s go,” then stepped out into the hall. Henry lumbered after her, with Milo in tow. Once Henry was through the door, Faye shut it behind him, then moved ahead of him, grabbed onto one of his enormous hands and led him in the direction of the ambulance.

  The voices were ge
tting closer now, but Henry and Faye were only about twenty feet from the back of the open ambulance and safety.

  “Come on, Henry, just a bit farther,” Faye whispered, and tried to tug on him to speed him up. She may as well have been tugging on a car.

  The sound of the ambulance’s idling engine blocked out the nearby voices as they got closer, which only made her more nervous. The last ten feet of the journey were agony. With every shuffling footstep from Henry, she thought she’d hear someone yell out to them, catch them in the act. There would be no explaining this. Henry and she would be separated – probably forever. The thought created a ball of lead in her gut and brought tears to her eyes.

  “Nearly there,” she said. “About five more steps.”

  Once they were at the edge of the back doors, she lifted the blanket so Henry could see his feet and the back of the vehicle. “Step up,” she said. “Quickly.” She glanced around one last time. Still no one. Is this really happening? she thought madly. Am I actually smuggling a metal behemoth out of a hospital furnace room?

  Henry stepped up, lost his balance, and fell forward. Luckily, due to his momentum, he toppled into the back of the ambulance rather than outside of it into the docking area. He crashed in, falling on his back and rolling to one side. Where he’d rolled, Faye saw dents in the metal underneath. The shocks of the vehicle groaned at the weight, but held.

  Steve glanced back, petrified. “What the fuck!?” he hissed. “What are you doing back there? Someone’s gonna hear!”

  Faye hoisted herself inside, telling Henry to drag his other leg in. She stood up.

  “Steve,” Faye said, closing the doors. “Shut up and drive.”

  * * *

  They drove slowly away from the hospital, snow drifting down to blanket the docking area, erasing their footprints. Milo gazed out the back window, watching the accumulation, still trying to shake the sudden feeling of menace he’d felt earlier. It wouldn’t budge.

  They drove in silence, Steve only occasionally craning his neck around to gawp at Henry. Blood had returned to his face, but the fear was plain in his eyes every time he swiveled in his seat to look behind him.

  “Don’t drive too fast,” Faye said. “You’ll get us pulled over.”

  “Least of my worries, Faye, sorry,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Listen,” Faye said, the word coming from her mouth in a sharp burst as she strode toward the front of the vehicle, leaning her head in near Steve’s. “You fucking slow down right now. The last thing we need is to have an accident. I said before that my friend is not dangerous, and he’s not. But I can certainly make him dangerous, if you’d prefer.”

  Steve glanced at her quickly, the fear in his eyes leveled up yet another notch. He saw that Faye meant it, said nothing – just turned his head, stared forward, and eased off the gas pedal.

  Faye moved to the back of the ambulance again, leaned down near where Henry still lay prone. He shifted to sit up when she approached, wanting to at least lean his back against the side of the vehicle.

  “Try not to crush too many lifesaving devices in here OK?” she said, and smiled at him.

  Henry just growled low in his throat as he tried to position himself into a sitting position. He attempted a smile, but again, it came off weirdly, since he still hadn’t mastered the dimensions and workings of his new face. Once he’d established himself as comfortably as possible, given the cramped interior, he mumbled, “Sorry,” and cast his eyes down.

  “No need to be sorry, Henry. None of this is your fault.”

  Now that she could see him in fairly strong light, things she originally mistook as menacing in the half-shaded areas of the hospital basement she now saw as beautiful. If you didn’t know him, you’d be terrified, of course (as poor Steve clearly was), but she knew Henry. She felt she somehow knew him better than people in her life she’d known for fifteen or twenty years.

  “You’re at Harriston and Blumfield, right?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah, the apartment building right on the corner there. Go around back. As soon as we arrive, shut the engine down. Keep us as dark as possible.”

  “Got it.”

  Faye reached out a hand, brushed it softly against Henry’s cheek. He flinched away instinctively, but only a little. He kept his eyes cast down but let her touch him. Her hand moved lower, fingers curling gently under his chin, cupping it. He flicked his eyes up at her quickly, ready to see a look of revulsion on her face, but she only smiled, her head titled on an angle.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Henry.”

  He nodded, but said nothing in return.

  Milo watched nearby, touched by the scene, wishing he could reach out to Henry, as well, let his friend know he was there with him. He knew it was impossible now – and likely would be forever – but he’d never wanted to be there for Henry more than he did right this instant. He knew Henry was flagging. Everything he was going through was taxing him emotionally to the point of despair. Even through his new facial features, and the new mannerisms his body was being forced to adapt, he could still see his old friend Henry in there, struggling to keep it together. Struggling to make sense of everything. Be present. Faye was doing her best, but Milo knew if he could somehow make Henry see him, give him the knowledge that he was there, too, it might be enough to get him through.

  Milo felt a sudden rush of love for his friend so strong that he didn’t know where to put the emotion. It coursed through him like a rushing river. He closed his eyes, and just waited for it to pass. I’m here, Henry, he thought again, for the thousandth time. Faye is here, but I’m here, too. I wish you knew. I wish I could make you know that.

  * * *

  They drove around back of Faye’s apartment building, parked in a spot as close to the doors as possible. Steve cut the engine.

  It was maybe thirty feet to the doors, but the sun was nearly fully up now. A few people trickled out of the building, on their way to early-start jobs, walking dogs, etc. Faye’s initial plan had been to try to sit unnoticed for the day, then hustle Henry inside once darkness fell. She saw now how ridiculous that was. Steve would be missed at work, as would the ambulance.

  Steve turned around in the driver’s seat, said, “So what’s the plan now? Use the blanket again to shuffle him inside, hope no one notices? ’Cause if so, I suggest you rethink that. No way – now that a lot of people are up and about – are you going to pull that off. No way.”

  Faye just sat and stared ahead, past Steve, out the front window. What the hell am I going to do?

  Then it hit her:

  “Fire alarm,” she said dreamily. “That’ll work, right? I’ll go in, pull the fire alarm. Everyone rushes out and, in the confusion, I bring Henry in.”

  She looked to Steve, saw doubt in his eyes. “Risky,” he said. “Super risky, but I’m not sure what other choice you have. Since I need to get back, like –” he glanced at his watch “– now.”

  “Fire house is pretty close,” Faye mumbled. “We’d need to be quick. Get him in there before they arrive.”

  “Correction: you’d need to be quick,” Steve said. “I’ll be gone.”

  “And you’re not going to say anything to anyone about this, right, Steve?” Faye said, snapping out of her dreamy voice, all threat again. “Right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, definitely, Faye. You know I’d never tell anyone. You think I want this complication in my life? I have enough of those as it is, believe me. I don’t need to add this to my list. Whatever this is.” Steve gestured to Henry. “Also, who’d believe me?”

  “Alright, you ready for this? I’ll go in, pull the alarm, walk out again calmly. We’ll get the blanket on Henry, get him out of the ambulance, then you can leave. I’ll wait till people start filing out, then we’ll move past everyone. Just me and… a seven-foot tall… fucking… giant.” Faye leaned over, put her head in her hands. “No way this is ever gonna work. Fuck!”

  “Calm down, Faye. It’s gonna be fine,”
Steve said, moving into the back part of the ambulance. He tried to put an arm around her, but she pulled away from him.

  Ah, is that why you’re helping me, Steve?

  He moved back, cleared his throat, embarrassed, but carried on: “Let’s just think for a sec. What else is out there? Near the doors, I mean. Maybe some other place he can hide till it gets dark? Whatever we do, we have to figure it out now. I already have no idea how I’m going to explain why I’m not at work and have been driving around in a fucking ambulance all morning for no apparent reason.”

  Faye pulled her hands away from her face, breathed deeply. Straightened out her uniform. “Alright, OK. Let’s have a look.” She leaned forward into the passenger seat, poked her head out just far enough so she could see outside.

  Dumpster. Of course. I’m an idiot.

  “The dumpster,” she said, turning back to Steve. “We don’t need to pull the fire alarm. We only need a diversion big enough for me to get him into the dumpster. I’ll wait till people are asleep tonight, and then move him in. That’ll give me a chance to get a bigger blanket, too – one that might actually cover all of him, head to toe. It’ll still look weird if anyone sees it, but at least they won’t be able to actually see what he is.”

  She glanced over at Henry, looking sheepish. She didn’t mean for her words to hurt him, but she saw that they did.

  “Alright, do it,” Steve said, now visibly near panic at the thought of potentially losing his job. “Let’s go. Come on. I gotta get back.”

  “Wait, what’s the diversion?” Faye said.

  Steve looked lost in thought for a few seconds, then said, “Just watch what I do, then move Henry when you see I’ve got everyone’s attention. It won’t be anything Hollywood-flashy, so pay attention. Just gonna spin some bullshit.”

  Steve moved to the back of the ambulance, took one more glance at Faye and Henry, opened the doors, then was out and walking toward the apartment building’s rear entrance.

  Faye turned quickly to Henry. “I’ll get you out as soon as I can, Henry. I promise. It’ll be well over twelve hours, but then we’ll be safe, OK?”